On Old Age by Mimnermus

What is this life, what is pleasure without Aphrodite the golden?

May I expire when these things cease to hold interest for me:

Secret affection, delectable gifts that arouse, and the boudoir.

Ah! These sweet flowers of youth become the obsessions

of men,

Also of women. However when wearisome age comes upon him,

Old age which makes a man mean, makes a man wicked as

well,

Evil cares always encircle his heart and his mind and oppress him,

Nor is he pleased when he looks up at the beams of the sun,

Since he is hateful to boys and is likewise despised by the women.

Such is the sentence of age given all men by the gods.